


In Passing

by Val_Creative



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Family, Friendship, Gen, Good Draco Malfoy, Good Narcissa Black Malfoy, Illnesses, Introspection, Luna Lovegood & Draco Malfoy Friendship, Luna Lovegood is a Good Friend, POV Draco Malfoy, Post-Canon, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Potioneer Draco Malfoy, Potions Accident, St Mungo's Hospital, Supportive Narcissa Black Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:40:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27752455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: Draco ends up in St. Mungo's Hospital and finds Luna there.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Narcissa Black Malfoy, Luna Lovegood & Draco Malfoy
Comments: 12
Kudos: 42
Collections: Books of Yule





	In Passing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dressedupasmyself](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dressedupasmyself/gifts).



> I haven't done a good ole fic with character-focused plot in a while. This was fun! Hope you all like this!

*

Draco isn't meant to be here. He's a Malfoy.

(Malfoys never end up in a hospital _of all the ridiculous things_.)

He's seen the ground floor of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries before. His godfather, Severus Snape, was mislead about a pawnbroker's cursed artifact, getting stunned by the eye-bleeding jinx on it. Thankfully, it was reversed.

At the time, Draco had been eight years old and affronted by his mother's affections. He refused to sit on the old rickety wood chairs in the visitor's entrance and reception area swarmed by those with a variety of bizarre magical ailments. Draco remembers seeing a Potioneer with a baboon's drooling face. He became shy around the Welcome Witch who patted his head. 

It's the same Welcome Witch. She recognises him by the white-blond locks. There's more wrinkles on her pockmarked hands and around her smiling, brown eyes. "Have a good rest, lad," she frets, patting Draco's hand. The corner of his mouth tilts up.

She wanders during her breaks through the corridors like Draco wanders. He can't remain on the Third Floor every bloody day. 

_How dull._

*

An accident happened, that's all. It's too late to say that Draco knew the risks, but he doubtless acted.

Draco has been experimenting with his potions as soon as the dust settles after the Great War, using the privacy of the Malfoy Manor's dungeon to arrange himself a storeroom of ingredients for potion-making and collecting what's needed. There's enough cauldrons and brass scales and phials of dissimilar sizes to teach his own lessons at Hogwarts as Potions Master.

It's been a great ambition of his to concoct a permanent antidote for Dragonpox. Abraxas Malfoy, Draco's grandfather, lost his life to Dragonpox. Others in the Wizarding World have painfully lost their friends and colleagues. That doesn't seem right.

He inhaled the fumes to his experimental potion, having no idea that what Draco accidentally created was a new, _rare_ poison. 

They inform him, once Draco wakes groggily in his hospital room, that if he had happened to drink from his potion, or allowed it to touch his bare skin — his death would have been certain. Narcissa Malfoy found him unconscious in the dungeon. Thankfully, she sensed something amiss. Draco only regrets frightening her as he did. Her mother has suffered enough.

Narcissa hasn't been permitted to see Draco, but she gives him treats from Hogsmeade with elegantly hand-written letters. 

Upon his arrival, the Healers overseeing Draco's condition immunize him with the Antidote to Uncommon Poisons. Something consisting of fire seeds, billywig stings, a graphorn horn and chizpurfle carapaces, or so Draco believes he's memorised in a textbook. Instead of completely healing him, the potion completely reverses Draco's blindness in his eyes in several hours.

(He's grateful _for that much_ — Draco occasionally wakes having blurry vision, needing for it to clear up on its own.)

Not even a bezoar works.

It'll be a slow recovery, the Healers insist. He'll need to stay under observation and receive more antidotes. But it's promising.

Recovery seems to be the worst of what's happened. Everything itches. All over Draco's face, in his nose and eyes and mouth. He glimpses a shiny, pink rash covering his throat and most of Draco's chest, itching as well. His lightheadness doesn't fade. 

Even while being fatigued at all hours, Draco has trouble sleeping.

They bring him a Sleeping Draught. Draco accepts it, gulping the bright purple liquid down slowly, but cringes at the quality of its make. He can taste the Flobberworm Mucus when nobody should. It should be only a hint of warm lavender and valerian.

Unlike the Pure-Blood families who scorn him for going against Voldemort, and everyone else who opposes the Pure-Blood families who also scorn Draco (but not for the same reasons), the Healers in St. Mungo's treat Draco kindly and professionally. He's less irritable. Draco doesn't feel like he's supposed to lash out and heighten an emotional wall around himself.

When he's too tired to wander, Draco reads. 

His mother left him this week with "Moste Potente Potions" by Phineas Bourne (which contains instructions on how to brew the most advanced and gruesome potions), "Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions" (a book relating to Draco's visit), and "First Love, First Loss" by Amorette Deneuve (instead of outdated Witch Weekly that Madam Shrew threw at him).

He enjoys curling up in the Second Floor stairwell, further away from the hustle and bustle of the Mediwizards.

Draco wanders again, as tomorrow morning he's feeling his strength returning and his vision clearing up faster than ever, grabbing an apple. His teeth sink into the light green flesh, crunching in. Semi-sour juices pool into Draco's mouth.

Going around the corner, he nearly stumbles into a figure with massive amounts of long blonde hair. 

The half-eaten apple drops out of his hand.

"Lovegood?" Draco says this like an accusation.

Her bulging silvery eyes focus on him. She acts like they didn't almost collide outside of the loo. "Hello, Draco," Luna murmurs, her girlish voice low and soft. She kneels down to pluck up Draco's apple. "This is a nice surprise."

After being offered it back, Draco carefully takes the apple from Luna's fingertips. He relaxes.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing here?"

"My father caught a minor case of Vanishing Sickness. I was getting tested for it."

Draco looks her over, frowning. She's in overalls and a multicolored blouse with stripes and dots zigzagging all over. Luna's knees scraped with dirt. Realistically beetle wing earrings dangle iridescently red from Luna's ears. 

"Nothing appears missing," he concludes, speaking dully.

"That's fortunate." Luna nods. The beetle wings seem to take _flight_ in all of that wavy blonde hair. "What brings you here?"

His arms cross themselves. 

"Why is that any of your concern?" Draco grumbles. 

This doesn't seem to bother her. Nothing ever really does, he realises.

"I suppose it isn't," Luna says thoughtfully. Her bulging eyes wander over Draco's expression. "I only hoped it was not serious."

His lips flatten.

"Right…" Draco mumbles in embarrassment.

Luna only politely listens.

"I was experimenting with potions. Got carried away, I expected… I won't be here much longer though. There's no reason."

"That is unfortunate. I am sorry to hear what happened." Luna's voice goes quiet. So quiet that Draco strains to hear her. "My mother loved experimenting with spells. She passed away from it. I don't think she meant to do it. It was an accident, really."

With a shiver of apprehension, Draco recalls what the Healers told him.

"She did…"

"It's all rather sad, but I like to think my mother would be proud of me. My father needed me while she was gone away."

Draco's lips flatten harder, and his swollen, itchy throat clenches. During the time of Lucius Malfoy's imprisonment, Draco couldn't get his mother to take bites of her supper or visit the parlor. She left her favourite red wine untouched. Draco learned to perfect brewing a Sleeping Draught at a young age to help Narcissa Malfoy before her body collapsed from grief and agitation.

"I should go." Luna hums. "Thank you for spending time with me. It was quite lovely of you. You'll feel better soon, won't you?"

"Yes," Draco says, murmuring and watching her in slight fascination.

"Hopefully we can do this again. Goodbye."

She turns around, walking off, Luna's earrings flutter and glimmer under the dim hospital lights. Draco stares after her, narrow-eyed, considering what was spoken. Relating to someone like Luna Lovegood feels odd. He tosses his apple into a bin.

*

It's a constant and eye-straining parade of lime green robes until his mother arrives.

She wears a knee-length silk dress. Her white blond-streaked dark hair pinned and perfumed. The first thing Draco does is throw his arms around her, holding them close until he feels her tears escaping. "My darling boy," Narcissa Malfoy whispers.

"I shouldn't have done that—I shouldn't have made you go through that," Draco says sullenly. "I cannot tell you how sorry I am."

_"All is forgiven, darling."_

*


End file.
